For Better or For Worse

Part 4

By: piperholmes

A/N: sorry for the long delay in updating. Life. Thank you so much for the reviews and kind PMs! The support for this story has been overwhelming! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It felt so wrong to leave poor Ross and Demelza on such an uncomfortable note in the last chapter that I had to add this fluffy one. I have a few more ideas for chapters so we'll see how it goes, but I also think this chapter could work as an end to this particular story if need be. (I'm so indecisive! Sorry!). Unbeta'd

"Tedn fair. Tedn right. Tedn just."

Ross Poldark's gaze sharpened as he glared at his workman. "I'll have no more out of you tonight. Finish your task then take the rum with you when you go. You and Prudie can toast my marriage with a glass, then off to bed."

"S'pose you'll wantin' me ta be grateful," Jud answered, his tone leaving no room for speculation on just how far from grateful he was.

"I want you to finish and be gone," Ross replied back, his gaze hard, but Jud paid no mind.

"Tedn right," he mumbled again, dumping the last of the steaming water into the tub, glaring at Demelza, who sat quietly by the fire, eyes boring into the floor.

Ross kept his temper in check as the old man tittered about his task, stomping around, loudly going through the cabinet as he pulled out the bottle of strong liquor.

"One glass," he emphasized, raising a finger to further his point. "Do you hear? One."

"Aye sir," Jud sneered before slinking out angrily, the door slamming loudly behind him.

"It'll be gone by morning," Damelza's sweet voice warned behind him, prompting Ross to spin around to look at her. She'd been so quiet since they'd returned from the church, so unlike Demelza. If he was honest with himself, which he tried his best to be, he would admit he was afraid she was regretting all that had transpired in the last day, but the small smile on her face, though shy and a bit more hesitant than it had in the past, gave him hope.

He moved towards her carefully, mindful that her entire world had changed drastically in only a matter of hours. "If it keeps them out from underfoot and allows me a few precious hours undisturbed with my new wife, then it's a small price to pay."

Her cheeks pinked endearingly, her eyes shifting about the room nervously. "Your wife," she repeated softly, her shock mirroring his own as her tongue tried out the new concept.

"My wife," he said firmly, crouching down to where she sat near the fire, ensuring his eyes met hers.

They'd returned home quickly following the ceremony, having invited the Reverend back for a small wedding breakfast that Demelza had prepared. The conversation had struggled over the perfectly prepared pastries, the Paynters' mulish expressions casting a pall until, fed up with their grumblings, Ross charged them with mucking out the chicken coop, which only led to further complaining and arguing. Demelza had, out of habit and wanting to restore peace, immediately volunteered to do the job, causing Reverend Odgers to choke on the piece of cold ham he'd been chewing, his coughing and sputtering setting Garrick to barking, which won Demelza a glare from her new husband who had graciously been ignoring the fact that she'd let the dog inside but now pointedly demanded his removal. She'd complied but not before glowering at him and being sure to slam the door with particular emphasis.

And thus had begun married life.

Despite the tumultuous start of the day, they had eventually reestablished order—still having the daily chores to get done—but now, as the sun lowered in the sky, casting its oranges and pinks across the gray water, the light dimming, the pair gazed at each other, seeing every thing familiar, yet everything so new. It had always been so easy between them; from the moment they met they had sort of fallen into each other's lives. Somehow, over the months, they had grown into each other, like the branches of trees that had reached across a great expanse and wound together. That first night, as their bodies had connected so intimately, it had felt right. Even as the awkwardness of uncertainty hummed between them, Ross could not deny how much he wanted her again, wanted that connection.

"Come," he beckoned, standing, extending his hand out to her. "I cannot offer you a wedding trip—"

Demelza shot to her feet, shaking her head. "Sir, no, I don't need no fancy weddin' trip."

"Ross," he corrected gently, a dimple appearing as he fought to keep his smile in check, before continuing as if she hadn't spoken. "But we can begin our wedding night with one of life's greatest pleasures."

Demelza eyed the copper bathing tub skeptically. She knew the gentrified folk had all manner of peculiar tastes, and she had to admit she'd grown to appreciate the happiness that came from sleeping under clean blankets, wiping the face with clean rags, swilling under the pump to rid the body of the day's grime and dirt, but Ross' penchant for stripping naked and submerging fully into the sea or, in the cold winter months dragging the tub into the kitchen, was something she had been both fascinated with and disturbed by. She'd not been raised with much of a religious direction, and considering the nights spent in anticipation of her wedding vows (several times over by this point) with her master, she doubted anyone would look to her as a paragon of virtue, but there seemed something decidedly sinful about bathing, which she voiced to Ross.

He grinned at her hesitation. "It's nothing to worry over Demelza."

Stepping towards her, he placed his hands on her hips, laughing at her furrowed brow.

"It's not as bad as all that," he chided gently, his fingers sliding up along her sides, causing her to squirm away from him. He caught her fast, a playful challenge in his eyes as he shook his head. She couldn't help the answering smile on her lips, knowing she'd already lost.

She watched in silence as Ross' worked rough hands slowly began unclasping the front of her new dress. She could smell the day's work cling to his clothes: the dried grass that had been cut, the dirt that had been turned and broken, the wood that had been chopped, all mingled with the scent that was Ross. Her heart warmed as she stood, her eyes moving to his face, so serious now as he focused on his task of undressing her. That morning as he'd escorted her to the church he'd looked so regal, his well tailored coat sitting perfectly on his shoulders, his hair brushed and shining, a snowy white cravat about his neck. He'd looked every bit the country squire so far above her that she'd been nervous to even speak to him. She preferred the Ross that stood before her now, coat gone, hair wild from the sweat and heat of the day and most recently the effort of pulling the heavy tub into the house, the dark curls of his chest peeking through his open shirt, his nails blackened with the soil of the earth. She didn't feel so far separated from this Ross.

"Ross," she whispered as he pushed the fabric of her dress down her shoulders, not knowing what she wanted to say, but wanting to say something.

"Demelza," he answered back easily, seeming to understand, to know what she wanted, to somehow fulfill her unrealized expectations.

Her hands clung to his shoulder as he bent, helping her step out of her dress, leaving her standing in the glow of the fire in only her thin chemise. She'd not realized how quickly a person could become accustom to the nakedness of intimacy, but the last three weeks had taught her a great deal of what went on between a man and a woman, and it seemed ridiculous to suffer a bout of prudish indignation over being stripped naked for a bath when the night previous had seen Ross' mouth on nearly every inch of her body.

Still, the summer night had cooled, and Demelza couldn't help the shiver that moved through her barely clothed body.

Ross' gaze sharpened on her, and Demelza had a pretty good idea in what direction his mind had wondered as his eyes darkened.

"Come," he beckoned, both choosing to ignore the slight crack in his voice. He unlaced her chemise with practiced ease, allowing the garment to fall to the ground, and, unable to resist the impulse, kissed her collarbone before leading her over to the steaming water and helping her step in.

Her breath rushed from her as her toes met the heated water. It was unlike anything she'd felt before. She knew the sensation of the ocean at the end of a hot summer day, the water warmed by the shining sun, but it had never been this hot, this inviting. It took a moment for her body to adjust to the intense heat, but soon she was allowing Ross to lower her fully into the tub, a sigh of delight escaping her lips before she could stop it.

Ross laughed softly, clearly pleased by her reaction.

"Feels nice?"

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the copper tub, reveling as the warmth seeped into her tired, overworked muscles.

"Nice?" she could only scoff, her eyes remaining closed. "I 'spect I'd find nothing that feels quite so wonderful."

"Nothing?" Ross asked, sitting on the floor next to her, his arm resting on the edge of the tub before moving to allow his fingers to glide along the skin of her shoulder then down to the gentle curve of her breast to dip into the water and tease the tightening nipple hidden beneath.

Demelza felt a frisson of satisfaction shudder through her.

"Nothin'" she teased slowly, a smirk on her lips.

"Oh my dear Demelza," Ross practically growled. "You have much to learn about the…pleasures of life."

Delighted anticipation bubbled in her stomach, setting her heart to pounding.

He leaned toward her, his eyes on the pink skin of her lips, drawing her to him. She waited, she breathed, she watched but when she felt no pressuring contact she had to fight the urge to huff with inpatients.

His grin grew decidedly wicked and self-satisfied. He knew what she wanted and happily left her wanting as his lips hovered near hers.

When he finally moved he slid passed her suddenly and commanded her to sit up.

Her confusion was apparent, but did as he insisted, watching as he shuffled to where a pitcher sat warming near the fire. He grabbed it, then returned back to kneel by the tub.

"Lean your head back."

She once again did as instructed.

"Close your eyes."

In the darkness she heard and felt the water ripple and tinkle around her as the pitcher disturbed its glassy perfection.

She gasped when the warmth rained down onto the crown of her head, sending streams of water cascading down through her curls and onto her shoulder and further still. She heard his quiet chuckle as he repeated the action again and again, showering her tenderly until her hair was a wet, heavy mane.

"I've one more surprise for you," he whispered near her ear.

Demelza barely cracked open an eye, feeling warm and more relaxed than she had any memory of ever being. He shushed her back to closing her eyes and she heard the clinking of a bottle being opened and the hint of flowers tickled her senses.

His hands soon returned to her, his fingers working their way into her hair, carefully massaging the skin beneath. Demelza had the distinct feeling that if she were a cat she'd be set to purring. His gentle touch kept him from pulling at her tangles; rather the circular motion against her scalp and the sweet scent of roses lulled away the anxieties of the day.

He reached once again for the pitcher, pouring the water through her hair once, then twice.

"Feeling better?" he breathed against her cheek, allowing her to lean back, her wet hair resting against his sleeve.

"I'm getting you wet," she said lightheartedly, sleepy eyes opening to examine his face.

Ross seemed to think about this seriously, frowning with concentration before setting his present for her, the bottle of Rose Water, on the ground and sliding his arm from beneath her, leaving her head to rest against the edge of the metal tub.

Her eyes grew wide as he slide off his braces and tugged his dampened shirt over his head, revealing the well defined chest beneath. When his hands moved to the button on his trousers she objected. "Sur! You can't think…there's no room!"

"Ross," he said, not pausing his disrobing, stripping himself bare before her. The sun had left the sky, the dancing fire casting shadows about the room, and there he stood, her husband, a predatory grin on his scarred face.

He ignored her cries of protest as he stepped into the tub, water sloshing over the edge as he settled to the bottom and maneuvered her onto his lap.

"Time to show you how truly wicked taking a bath can be."

"Sur…

…oh

…oh Ross…"

Thank for reading!